Chapter Twenty-Two
You are in no position to wed and I am in no position at all…
Adam heard the words in a half-sleep state but he was too far from the surface to answer her.
Now, he had no idea how long he slept, but he was alone, the sheets beside him cold. He might have thought making love to Olivia was a dream but for the faint smell of honeysuckle from the pillow, and the fact he was still naked.
Olivia was right; he was in no position to wed. Worse, he was in no position to even tell her why he couldn’t. If there had been any doubt about that in his mind, Ridgeway had provided reasons enough.
“Play this carefully,” the older man had instructed. “It’s clear they don’t trust you, but you’ve offered enough bait for them to risk it. I’ve seeded sufficient information back to the Admiralty that rumors of a secret warship will sound credible to any traitor they may have high up in London.”
“Be careful they don’t slit your throat the minute they get their hands on these,” said Bassett, holding up a scrolled document.
Adam had thanked him for his concern.
“Concern? Sorry, Hardacre, but that’s some of my best work there, especially forging His Majesty’s seal; I don’t want it ruined with blood. I might want to frame it when this business is over.”
Ridgeway had shaken his head indulgently before continuing to address Adam.
“Demanding to see the mastermind has got you this far, but it’s not going to get you all the way. You will have to convince them you’re with them one hundred percent – but also with an eye on self-preservation.
“So watch carefully. Observe everyone. The Collector, as he calls himself, will likely say little. In fact, he may be the most unobtrusive person in the room, so watch the others. They will defer to him in some way at some point – by way of a glance or nod.
“And they’ll expect you to be armed, so bring something for them to take from you – a knife will do, but not one you’d be sorry to lose. And if things go bad and you have to fight, use your wits.”
Bassett smirked. “Well, he’s done for then, isn’t he?”
Adam had reached out quickly, his hand gripping the little forger’s throat but only lightly in the spirit of the jest. Ridgeway cleared his throat and Adam let go of Bassett with a smile.
“We’ll have people watching you,” Ridgeway continued, “so don’t worry about that. Just focus on your mission. Keep your head clear. No distractions. None.”
Adam had given Ridgeway his full attention then. The man’s piercing blue eyes pinned him to the chair.
“Meaning?”
“You know full well what I mean. Olivia Collins is off limits.”
The light that spilled through the window was orange; soon twilight would be upon them. Midnight. He had to be gone just after midnight, and he’d need his wits about him. Adam’s stomach grumbled. He also needed a good feeding.
He dressed and went down the servant’s stairs to the kitchen. Olivia was there, her back to him. Her light brown hair tumbled in soft waves down her back. He wanted to run his fingers through it. His body started to stir.
She turned slightly. Adam saw her examine something in her hand. The bloom in his chest turned to stone.
Olivia held an envelope. On the kitchen table, his satchel was open. Beside it, a scroll tied in dark blue ribbon, its wax seal broken.
The plans for the fake battleship.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Olivia nearly leapt. The hand holding the envelope went to her breast and he saw it was the message that had waited for him at the post office.
“That’s the second time today you’ve snuck up on me!” she scolded, breathless.
The lively surprise on her face then dimmed to match his dark mood.
“I…I’m sorry. I accidentally pushed your satchel over when I put my things on the table. Everything went on the floor. I was just picking it up.”
Adam looked at the table again. Yes, he could see where the leg of her folded easel might have easily nudged his bag. On top of the easel was Olivia’s own satchel and sketchbook. It was an innocent mistake; he didn’t need to be so severe.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be gruff,” he said. He scrubbed his face with his hands to stifle a yawn. “I was under strict instructions to bring some important documents with me. It would be my hide if I lost them.”
She visibly relaxed, his apology apparently accepted. He reached out his hand. Olivia placed the letter by the plans and accepted his embrace.
“I thought you looked tired when you arrived,” she said. “How much sleep have you really had over the past few days?”
“How long was I asleep upstairs?”
“No more than a couple of hours.”
“Then I’ve had five hours since Thursday.”
He accepted a look of reproof with a grin.
“Polly always has something special on the menu for Saturday night. Why don’t you see to locking up the house and I’ll saddle the horse and pack everything here away,” he said before bringing his lips down to hers. He was pleased to feel her respond to the kiss. He deepened it until it burned away his fatigue.
Adam waited until he heard her reach the first floor landing before going over to the table. He picked up the letter and unfolded it again.
Meet at the Four Cross. Three hours after midnight.
– W
Had Olivia read it?
Dear God, he hoped not.
The mile ride back to the tavern didn’t leave any time for talking and as soon as they arrived, Olivia excused herself to freshen up before dinner.
Adam lashed his satchel to beneath the bedsprings so if anyone swept under the bed, they would find nothing. The dueling pistols were secure now at his lodgings in Plymouth. When he returned to the dining room, Harold caught his attention with a wave. Adam indicated two beers from Jory who stood behind the bar before joining his friend.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you just ride in?”
Jory dropped two tankards on the table. Adam nodded his thanks before taking a large draught.
“A few hours ago,” Adam shrugged.
Harold hesitated over his beer.
“What’s on your mind?” Adam prompted.
“Last Saturday and your disappearing trick. Forgive me if it’s none of my business but,” Harold now whispered, “how deep are you in with the Society?”
Adam took another drink and frowned, pretending he didn’t understand what his friend was talking about.
Apparently, Harold wasn’t buying it.
“You tell me some cock-and-bull story to make me feel better about changing my mind, but you went to their meeting. What the hell is going on? Is Olivia part of it?”
Adam’s frown deepened. “Why would you mention her?”
Harold shrugged, as though that was explanation enough.
The beer soured in his stomach. He shoved the glass aside. “What the hell are you saying?”
“Steady on!” Harold raised his hands defensively, then lowered his voice when one or two patrons looked in their direction. “You never used to be like this – secretive, furtive – and you’ve only been that way since you met her.”
Adam closed his fist and squeezed it. The crossed anchor tattoo stood out.
“I’m your friend.” Harold continued. “We’ve been friends ever since I was a wet behind the ears cadet who had barely earned my commission. You’ve been a mentor to me, a man I’ve always looked up to. But you’ve become a stranger, and I’m not the only one who says so. Other men from the Andromeda have said as much. If I can help, let me, but whatever you decide, you don’t have to do it alone.”
Adam retrieved his tankard and gripped the handle. He stared down at the remnants of the amber beneath.
“You are a friend,” he conceded. “One of the truest I’ve known. I wish I could tell you what’s happened over the past few months, but…”
Adam shook his head to gather his thoughts.
“You trust me, don’t you, Harry?”
Harold Bickmore nodded and cautiously picked up his own mug.
“I can tell you nothing more, but your worst suspicions about The Society for Public Reform are not unfounded.”
The young man’s dark eyes widened, reminding Adam so much of the green youth Harold was ten years ago.
“How bad is it, Adam? I mean, we’ve all heard rumors of Boney’s spies and—”
Adam shook his head sharply. “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies. But I will ask a favor of you.”
“Anything. Name it.”
“Be a friend to Olivia, even as you are my friend. If she ever comes to you in need, remember our friendship.”
Harold’s frown deepened. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“You don’t have to like it…just make that promise, will you?”
“So…it’s that serious?”
Adam knew the question could be answered in more than one way. Whichever way Harold took it would be mostly right in any event. Best to leave it like that. He suspected he had already stretched the bounds of what he ought to communicate anyway.
He caught a glimpse of light brown hair and the familiar blue dress. Olivia scanned the room looking for him – he hoped. He put up a hand to attract her attention and rose to his feet. Her smile lifted the black weight that had pressed down on him during his conversation with Harold.
Harold rose also and said under his breath, “Then you have my promise, old friend.”
*
Despite his avowal of love, she still wasn’t sure how Adam felt about her. She knew her reasons for wanting to become his lover but she was not certain of his. Now with the deed done, would he be dismissive of her? He’d certainly been out of sorts this afternoon. It would be easy to blame his ill-temper on his exhausting ride.
So she took her time entering the tavern’s dining room, hesitating at the threshold. Adam was in deep conversation with his friend, Harold. Olivia started looking for other places to sit, where she would not intrude, when Adam caught her eye.
He was the most handsome man she knew. Not even Constance’s florid girlish descriptions of him as a youth could do justice to him now as a grown man.
And his expression of warmth and delight on seeing her gave Olivia confidence to join him and his friend. She accepted Harold’s hand.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Miss Collins.” He bowed over her hand like the naval officer he was. Olivia dropped a curtsy, then looked to Adam. His intense look ignited the banked embers of desire within her, sparking memories of that afternoon. If they were alone, she would gladly take the promise she saw in his eyes.
Adam took her hand and squeezed it, then let it go before pulling out a chair for her. She almost forgot herself and their need for discretion. Olivia masked her disappointment.
“Harold has just been telling me he’s finally closer to deciding how he plans to occupy his time when he becomes a gentleman of leisure,” said Adam.
The expression on Harold’s face told her the statement was a lie. But to the young gentleman’s credit, he recovered himself nicely.
“Well, yes, as it happens. I’m viewing a townhouse in Truro at the moment.” Then the young man’s face turned sly. “Father tells me I should settle down and do something useful after I leave the Navy. I might thwart his ambitions for me once more by going into politics, instead.”
They all laughed. Beneath the table, she felt Adam take her hand, his fingers twining with hers.
“Now, Miss Collins,” Harold continued. “I have need of a lady’s opinion and I’m hoping you will oblige. It is my sister Elspeth’s birthday in September and I am to remember a gift on pain of death. I know nothing of these things. May I call on you in the next week to draw on your expert eye?”
“I’d be delighted, Lieutenant. How old is your sister?”
The young man looked panicked.
“You don’t know!” Adam roared with laughter. “You don’t even know your own sister’s age!”
Bickmore had the grace to look sheepish. “Then you understand, Miss Collins, why I need to make amends this year.”
Olivia grinned and decided to put the poor man out of his misery. “I’d only be too delighted to oblige, sir.”
The early part of the evening passed just as pleasantly, as the three of them shared amusing stories, even Adam, who always seemed so serious. Later, the local blacksmith approached and persuaded Adam and Harold into playing skittles. Olivia was invited to join in a game of cribbage by the curate’s wife.
By the time Jory called for last drinks, Harold had departed for Truro. Olivia was ready to retire. She stopped by the tables and had a word with those who remained before finally bidding goodnight to Adam and the group of men who continued with their game.
She ascended the stairs in the company of Polly who was taking up some fresh linens. A new guest, no doubt.
“I’m glad ye be gettin’ on so well with Adam,” she said. “He’s a good man.”
Olivia knew full well what Polly was hinting at. But this relationship, such as it was, was too new to be even spoken of, and to call the words that would conjure it into being could very well destroy it.
A noncommittal answer was all she gave the innkeeper. “He would appear so,” she said.
“Does that mean ye’re goin’ to be stayin’ in Ponsnowyth?” Polly asked, making a valiant attempt to not sound too curious.
“It’s too early to say. I’ll certainly stay for the summer. The earliest I would be expected to start a new position would be in September.”
Olivia paused at the door to her room and wrestled momentarily with her key. Polly continued two doors down and, before Olivia entered her room, she saw Polly look back and give her an assessing look.
She closed the door behind her, removed her shawl, and worked the buttons free from the back of her dress. She examined her face in the small oval mirror on the wardrobe door. The glass was pitted and foxed with age.
Did she look like a woman in love? In truth, she had spent just as much time in Peter Fitzgerald’s company as she had in Adam Hardacre’s and not once had Polly ventured an opinion of a match in that direction.
Polly was fond of Adam, to be sure, and had known him for many years. So perhaps it was the wishful thinking of a matchmaking romantic.
In the mirror’s reflection, Olivia saw her door open. By the time she turned, the door was closed again. Adam stood before her, a finger to his lips to indicate silence.
He crossed the room in a few short steps and she was pulled into his arms.
“Polly will flay the both of us if she catches you in here,” Olivia whispered. “She runs a respectable establishment.”
Adam dropped kisses on her neck, his hands warm on the exposed part of her back.
“Then we’ll just have to be quiet,” he whispered in her ear, sending tendrils of delicious pleasure down her neck.
“You can’t mean to…here, I mean…so soon after we…”
He slowed his kisses then stopped, resting his forehead against hers.
“I have to leave again for a while,” he said.
“So soon?” Olivia hated herself for asking the question. It made her sound like a needy ingénue. She should be glad of it – after all, she got what she asked for. Already, her resolve was at a tipping point. If Adam stayed, it would make it harder for her to agree to marriage with Peter Fitzgerald.
She swallowed a sudden panic and forced herself to calm down.
“When?”
“A few hours from now.”
“Why? What takes you away at such an hour?”
The deep shadows in the room suddenly made Adam seem dangerous, a stranger.
“No questions, Olivia, please.”
“Will you return?”
“All going well, yes.”
“Does it have anything to do the scroll you had with you today? What is it? Plans?”